


Dear Sidney

by FrushCrush



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Chocolate Box Exchange, Chocolate Box Exchange 2020, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Letters, Long-Distance Friendship, Season/Series 04, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrushCrush/pseuds/FrushCrush
Summary: This is my first time writing a MASH fic, but I love the way all of the characters interact in the show! Letters are always such a big part of their lives, so I wanted to try my hand at writing one – hope you enjoy it!
Relationships: Sidney Freedman & Father Francis Mulcahy
Comments: 18
Kudos: 52
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Dear Sidney

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Big_bunbun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_bunbun/gifts).



> This is my first time writing a MASH fic, but I love the way all of the characters interact in the show! Letters are always such a big part of their lives, so I wanted to try my hand at writing one – hope you enjoy it!

Dear Sidney,

It’s been quite some time since you graced the poker table here in fabulous Las 4077, hasn’t it? (By the way, the orphans wanted me to personally thank you for your last generous donation. Nurse Cratty even used some of the money to buy the kids a set of old Punch and Judy puppets in your honor!)

Capt. Pierce insisted that I write you as soon as I had the time to spare – he’s worried that you’ve (and I quote) decided to spend your money on something frivolous, like war bonds. He’d never admit it, but I suspect he likes it when he has a captive audience for his tomfoolery. Perhaps I should try asking about his mother next time he replaces the communion wine with moonshine?

It’s been very quiet here the last few days. Radar has been going around this morning to collect bets on how long it will take for the paint on one of the officer’s latrine doors to dry. (For the record, I marked myself down for 17 hours, 32 minutes – the humidity has been a touch high lately.) I’m not quite certain that the door needed a touch-up in the first place, but I think it was the only thing he could think of to keep everyone’s minds occupied.

You haven’t met him yet, but our new CO has really made his home here. (Well, maybe you have – he’s a career man, after all.) The boys were a bit tough on him at first, but I can already tell they’re all quite fond of him, Major Burns notwithstanding. He’s quite capable with a scalpel and he can really carry a tune at Sunday services! I’m just glad I won’t have to rely solely on Corp. Klinger during hymns now – I’m afraid to report that his bucket has more holes in it than his favorite crocheted shawl.

* * *

Please forgive the coffee stains on this page – I somehow managed to get caught in the blast radius of Major Houlihan’s mug. It’s really quite the story!

Things have been so slow here that someone (or a few someones, in my personal opinion) has taken to, well, taking things apart. One of the legs of the bench Radar chose was missing a few screws and he ended up with egg on his face, both figuratively and literally. Thank heavens that powdered means no shells – if only that applied to the rest of this ~~war~~ _police action_.

The Major had laughed so hard that she began coughing and decided to soothe her throat with a drink. Much to her (and my) surprise, her coffee had been switched after her arrival only minutes prior with one that had a faulty handle. As soon as she lifted it off the table, it came crashing down in large, jagged pieces.

Needless to say, Pierce fell to pieces as well and had to excuse himself, as his laughter was beginning to rattle the supports. I’m beginning to suspect that he knows a tiny bit more about this situation than he’s let on.

* * *

Terrific news, Sidney – Radar just stopped by my tent to inform me that my time was the closest! I was still 19 minutes off, but nobody else was even in the 17 hour range.

My winnings come to $96.75. I’m planning on sending the bulk down to the orphanage, but I’ve enclosed $5.00 along with this letter in the event that you are, in fact, out of money. (If that’s not the case, consider it a charitable donation of your first bet for next time you decide to drop in at poker night. After all, it will still end up in the hands of someone needy by the time the game is over.)

If the money is missing when you receive this, then I decree that whoever stole it shall be smote by the good Lord himself! (There – that should ensure it arrives safely.)

* * *

It seems as if our mutual friend Capt. Pierce was most definitely involved in the recent uptick in bad behavior. (This isn’t a shock to anyone, myself included.) What surprised me most, however, was his accomplice.

I know (for a fact, this time) that you haven't yet met our newest doctor: Capt. B.J. Hunnicutt. He’s fresh out of medical school and I’m beginning to realize he has yet to leave his jocular school years behind. I would never have believed it if I hadn’t witnessed him shoving Frank’s pillowcase over a bag of birdseed!

As he’s the new kid on the block, so to speak, I decided to let him off with a warning. We both know what kind of an influence Pierce can be, so I’m sure he got mixed up and thought he was just trying to fit in.

* * *

A brief update: one of the nurses informed me that the seat of my pants was covered in chalk after my talk with Capt. Hunnicutt. Seems I was wrong after all!

* * *

I’m afraid I must wrap things up here. We’ve just received word that we’ll be expecting casualties quite soon – Radar is predicting within the next 26 minutes, depending on the wind. God willing, we’ll be able to save them all.

If I had it my way, I would never have to perform this part of my job. Seeing the fear on those young men’s faces makes my faith shake, to be honest. Once this is all over, I don’t plan on making a habit of performing last rights regularly.

I hope all is well with your work – the living can be just as tough to handle sometimes. If you ever have the time to spare, please stop by. The 4077 will be your mirage in the Korean desert, a brief oasis from the harshness of reality.

I’ll save you a seat at the table, Sidney.

May the Lord protect you and see that this letter arrives to you safely.

Your friend and compatriot,

Father Francis J. P. Mulcahy, 4077 MASH


End file.
